


can't take the razorback, but you can give it

by surena_13



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/F, set between 3.06 and 3.07, useless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/pseuds/surena_13
Summary: Bobbie is going back to Mars soon and Chrisjen gives her a parting gift.Mild spoilers for Nemesis Games, but these are still very much the show's characters.





	can't take the razorback, but you can give it

**Author's Note:**

> Currently making my way through Nemesis Games and when I read that Chrisjen had given Bobbie the Razorback, my brain took that as cue to try and write that. This is that thing.

Sometimes, it shocked Bobbie how easily she had fallen into a sort of domestic rhythm with Chrisjen. As far as being a Martian defector turned hero shacking up with the UN Secretary-General could be considered domestic. She had gotten used to the lavish New York apartment a stone’s throw away from the UN building, even though it was world’s away from the cramped quarters on a Martian ship or her small apartment on Mars. It was going to be quite a change to go back to a marine’s life.

She had quickly learned Chrisjen had two ways of coming home. It was either deep into the night, where she quietly moved through the apartment, only flipping on the light in the bathroom. She would crawl into bed and be asleep within minutes. Or she’d be home somewhere around dinnertime and continued working on the sofa, an enormous mug of tea or a tumbler with more than two fingers of whiskey beside her, muttering quiet vulgarities under her breath or vehemently disagreeing with something that was well above Bobbie paygrade.

Bobbie had learned to tune it out. It was why the soft ‘fucking finally’ that came from the other end of the sofa barely registered until she received an incoming message from Chrisjen on her handheld. She frowned and looked up at Chrisjen, who wore a bemused but otherwise utterly unreadable smile. Letting her eyes flick down, she accepted the message and saw a bunch of very official-looking documents fill her screen. Her frown deepened when she realized what she was looking at.

Transference papers, passing ownership from the United Nations to her. She read them once and then again, but it was all there, down to the signature of acting Secretary-General Avasarala. All it needed was her own and then the Razorback would be hers.

“You’re giving me a ship? You’re giving me  _ that _ ship?” she asked incredulously. Her own ship, some rich kid’s racing ship. There was still some sort of disconnect in her brain. Chrisjen just shrugged, her wrap slipping off her shoulder, revealing just a little bare skin. Another thing that Bobbie had noticed. The woman could have an eighteen hour day and not have a single hair out of place, but when she got home, little imperfections snuck in, as if Chrisjen simply didn’t allow anything to be less than perfect until it suited her. 

“I can be a sentimental old lady when the mood strikes me.” Bobbie raised her eyebrows at that. She wouldn’t have described Chrisjen as sentimental. She had frighteningly good memory when it came to information that was useful to her, but she wasn’t sentimental. Chrisjen noticed the disbelief on her face and gave up the pretense of working, tossing her tablet on the table, her dark eyes fully focused on the Marine. “I could keep her, but considering my last trip nearly gave me permanent brain damage, I think she’d be better off with you.”

Bobbie shuddered at the memory. Those minutes Chrisjen had been unconscious, her breathing barely there, her heart rate all over the place had felt like ages. Definitely not one of her favorite memories. She glanced back down at her hand terminal, the name Mao nowhere to be found. “Doesn’t she belong to the UN?”

“I am the UN right now. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” The aloofness with which she said it was so astounding that Bobbie couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t have a lot of experience with politicians, Chrisjen was basically her only reference point, but she had a feeling that Avasarala was the only person in the system who could claim to be an entire government without it sounding like some ridiculous statement. When she said it, it was true and it was both scary and downright hot. 

“I wouldn’t go around saying that too loudly.” It wasn’t that she didn’t think Chrisjen’s new security detail wasn’t up to the job, it was more that they weren’t Cotyar and herself. With the UN being a bit of a mess after the arrest of Errinwright and the surprise resignation of Sorento-Gillis, it was a good environment for an assassination plot or two. Chrisjen tended to attract those. Bobbie would go back to Mars soon, courtesy of Chrisjen’s political power, and she hoped the woman wouldn’t actively seek out to make more enemies, especially in her own government.

“Who will have the balls to say anything about it? They’re all too happy that someone stepped up to fill Sorento-Gillis’ shitty shoes and that they’ll have someone to blame whenever that Ring business goes tits up.” She waved it off, as if the Ring hadn’t been on her agenda every single day. As if it didn’t mean anything that she had ended up as the most powerful woman in the system, even though she hadn’t wanted the position at all. She’d rather have the illusion that someone else had the power while she held the strings behind the scenes.

 

Bobbie watched as Chrisjen downed the last of her whiskey and got up to pour herself another one, her overly complicated outfit coming undone just a little more as she moved. Bobbie’s eyes slowly took in the bare skin from her throat over shoulder, down to her elbow. This was her second favorite Chrisjen, imperfect, with locks of hair escaping from her braid, the long day slipping away from her. Her favorite Chrisjen, well, that was hands down when they were in bed, naked, sweaty, begging for more.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll allow you to give a  _ Martian _ a valuable ship.” She stressed the word Martian. There might be a promise of peace somewhere in the future, but not too long ago they had been at war. Giving a ship, the ship that had been commandeered while the UN had been busy trying to kill one of its highest government officials, to a soon to be reinstalled Martian marine, it might be a touchy subject. 

 

Chrisjen didn’t seem to care, shaking her head slightly as she sat back down, curling her legs underneath her. She took a healthy sip of her whiskey and looked at Bobbie, her dark eyes flicking briefly towards the handheld, no doubt wishing she’d just put her thumbprint on it and just accept the damn ship. 

 

“The UN won’t care about a ship that will never be more than a racing ship. They can’t mount guns on her, they can’t haul more than two people at the same time. The Razorback is probably the least interesting thing we seized from the Mao’s, from a governing perspective.” Bobbie could see plenty of uses for a small, fast and maneuverable ship from a tactical point of view. Maybe a bunch of bureaucrats couldn’t. Or maybe Chrisjen was just bullshitting her to get her to stop arguing. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’ll probably be shipped out rather quickly when I get back to Mars. She’ll just be collecting dust for months, if not years.” She wasn’t even a pilot, though piloting the Razorback had given her a rush, despite the tense and desperate situation. She arm wrestled power armors for a laugh. A sleek, fast ship didn’t match her personality at all. 

“Let her. Or sell her. I’m sure there’s some fucking weirdo out there who’d pay good money to get their hands on Jules-Pierre Mao’s daughter’s ship. Add your heroics to it, saving the Secretary-General’s life, stopping the war and you can drive the price up.” That was delivered with a rather large of amount of derision and annoyance. She was being deliberately obtuse, which was something she tended to do when she tired and an army of politicians, assistants and military brass had been wearing her down the whole day.

Bobbie resisted the urge to just pick her up and put her in bed. It was only 10 pm, if she went to bed now, Chrisjen might actually get a luxurious seven hours of sleep if nothing exploded. They needed to finish this Razorback conversation first. Bobbie knew she wasn’t going refuse it. She generally had problems refusing Chrisjen anything. But she was still confused as to why Chrisjen would give her a ship she wouldn’t be able to use for a good long while.

 

“Probably, yeah.” Chrisjen sighed and set down her tumbler, holding out her hand. Bobbie took it without even thinking about it, her fingers curling around Chrisjen’s. The hint of annoyance that had been on her face had disappeared. Bobbie didn’t know her as well as her husband back on Luna, but she swore she could see the last remnants of the mask Chrisjen wore at work slip away, until the Secretary-General was gone. 

“I rarely give gifts that aren’t part of some political game. It’s not something I’m particularly good at,” Chrisjen said, her deep voice softer. Bobbie squeezed her hand, smiling at her. It was rare that she showed this kind of personal vulnerability. She had talked about her son, her husband, daughter and grandkids, but almost never about her own feelings that weren’t related to her job. “This means something. To me.”

 

Suddenly it all made sense. Chrisjen was giving her the ship because it had belonged to her enemy and Bobbie had saved her life with it. It was her way of saying she wouldn’t forget what the Martian had done for her. Her way of saying she’d be there for her, if Bobbie ever needed her. She was right, she wasn’t particularly good at this. But it was a hell of a grand gesture and Chrisjen was very good at those. The memory of Chrisjen making sure Bobbie was standing right behind her during her press conference about Mao came to mind. That had told both Earth and Mars that Bobbie wasn’t to be fucked with. 

 

“And you didn’t strike me as the kind of woman to give a one of a kind piece of jewelry to or an expensive bottle of wine.” Jewelry, no. She’d take the alcohol though. 

“So you’re giving me a ship that’s worth millions,” she shot back, enjoying the way Chrisjen’s eyes narrowed just for a moment. Even Chrisjen had to admit it was a bit much to give a woman she had met not too long, saved her life and had consequently become her lover, a really expensive racing ship. But it was abundantly clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not in this lifetime anyway. 

“Just smile and say thank you like a normal fucking person.” 

“I think you would be hard pressed to find a person who would call either of us normal.” Chrisjen granted her with a spectacular eyeroll. Bobbie just grinned and tugged the older woman towards her until Chrisjen was forced to straddle her thighs, yards of deep red silk settling around them. It provides Bobbie an excellent view of the rubies that had settled in Chrisjen’s cleavage. Later. First she made a show of lifting her hand terminal and pressing her thumb against it in an exaggerated move until it beeped and acknowledged her ownership of the Razorback. “Thank you.”

Chrisjen plucked her handheld out of her grasp and tossed it to the side, not caring exactly where it landed. Her expression had softened and there was even a hint of a smile on her face when she cupped Bobbie’s cheek and leaned in to kiss her, the taste whiskey lingering on her lips. Bobbie just rested her hands on Chrisjen’s hips and tried not to think about the moment she wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. 

 

A ‘you’re welcome’ was whispered against her lips. 

 


End file.
